Peace in the Aftermath
by Laurabeast
Summary: John's life has fallen apart so many times, and each time it had taken love to pull him back together. The love of adventure, solving crimes with Sherlock, the love of a good woman, but now without Mary who is left to love him?
1. Chapter 1

**My very first Johnlock!**

It all started with the hug, they had hugged before, but this was different, John felt so broken when Sherlock's slender fingers slid gently over the back of his neck, and his hand on his back. John's head leaned on his chest, tears dripping from his cheeks, and the only thing holding him together was the soft beating of Sherlock's heart.

After that things got... complicated. It wasn't romantic, John was not gay! It was a matter of needing comfort. A touch of the hand, or standing so they're shoulders touched. They both needed the touch of the other to assure they were still there. John even moved back in to 221b with Roseland. Sherlock never once complained about Rosie crying, or messing about in his things. He even kept the floors tidy, and the kitchen closed off for her.

They would find each other leaning against the other's back when they sat on the floor providing counterbalance. Grabbing his hand to stop him when he was too distracted to look both ways across the street, and he would keep hold of it until they were on the other side, sometimes longer. Rosey held both they're hands once she could walk, bridging them at all times.

They were arrested, not a shocking development, but it happened to keep them overnight to spite Sherlock. Who was now tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bench.

"Leave it off Sherlock, I might actually get some sleep in here, which is more than I can say for at home, what with Rosie waking me up at four A.M." John said without opening his eyes, Sherlock glared at him. His arm fell slack, how could he sleep in these conditions?

He pushed himself across the bench with his feet until his head was touching John's shoulder. He poked him in the head, John sighed, lifting it. Sherlock wiggled closer, laying his head on John's shoulder. John set his down on Sherlock's, reaching up to run his hand through his hair the way that soothed Rosey. He let his head loll to Sherlock's bent arm. Soon they were both asleep.

Rosie fell ill, it pulled John off a case. He knew Sherlock didn't need his help, but she was very ill. It kept him off the next two cases. Sherlock sat with him in hospital for the first few nights, but it fell off.

He hadn't seen Sherlock in weeks. Rosie was finally getting better, so he went to find him while Mrs. Hudson sat with Rosie. He found Sherlock laid out on the floor, a needle not far from his arm. John ran over to him, rolling him over to take his pulse. He was alive, so John slapped him. He sat up with a start.

"John?" Sherlock cocked his head, looking around.

"How dare you! How... I needed you, and you're here high off your tits, while I..." John got to his feet, scrubbing his hand over his face. Sherlock stumbled up after him.

"You were busy, I solved the case, cases really. Eight while you were sitting around." Sherlock started towards his bedroom.

"Sitting around! Rosie is ill! She has bacterial pneumonia, she wasn't responding to antibiotics! She needed me! She needed me to be there for her! The way I needed you!" John shoved him, and Sherlock spun around, falling back onto his bed.

"What good did your sitting around do for her? What did you want me to do? I don't know how to be what you want? I don't want to go back to being alone!" Sherlock had sunk low on this same path when John had gotten married, but it was worse now with Mary gone. Rosie needed his full attention, Sherlock couldn't bare to get in the way of that.

"Neither do I you cock! I can't do this alone! I'm rubbish at this sort of thing, you know that. I was there, I held her hand when she was awake, and read her stories to get her to sleep, and that was all I could do! I'm a doctor! I'm here father! I shouldn't be helpless, I can't be helpless again, not like last time." John trailed off to a whisper at the end, sinking down to the floor, tears streaming down his face.

Sherlock rolled over somewhat awkwardly, looking over at John with worry. He put his hand on his shoulder. John covered his hand with his own, squeezing his eyes shut until his tears stopped.

"I don't know how to do this anymore." John took a few careful breaths trying to steady himself.

"Nor do I." Sherlock whispered, rolling onto his back, leaving his head on John's shoulder, looking up.

"Promise me you'll stop, promise me never, never around Rosie. Never when she needs you. I can forgive you for letting me down, but never her. No matter what, promise me." John said without looking at him. He watched John while he spoke, soft, and absolutely serious.

"I swear to you John. I would never do anything to risk either of you. Never break my vow again." He let his eyes fall shut, the most important words left off, never spoken. Because I love you John. John heard them through, in the soft baritone of his voice, he knew. They stayed like that, cheek to cheek until they fell asleep.

After that it happened more and more often, in his chair while John played with Rosie until they were all asleep against Sherlock, his hand in John's hair. When John folded laundry on the floor late at night, Rosey asleep in the corner, and a bored Sherlock on the bed, his head on John's shoulder. In the back of the car on long trips home. Once on the tube standing up.

It was all just normal to the both of them, to Rosie as well, though outsiders found it odd, often thinking they were a couple. John had stopped correcting them. He hadn't had a girlfriend since... He just hadn't. He had nightmares even still, except when Sherlock was there which was why he was on his fifth cup of coffee.

Sherlock had been pulled away by Mycroft for the weekend, John had to stay for Rosie's field trip. He hadn't slept since he'd left, not really. He woke with a start, his throat raw, and his neck aching from being in Sherlock's chair.

"Daddy? Are you okay?" Rosie tugged at his hand, she was remarkably intelligent for her age, Marty's doing he supposed, coupled with Sherlock's tutelage.

"I'm fine sweetheart, just a bit of a nightmare." He pulled her up into his lap, stroking her hair gently.

"Do you miss Daddy?" She had started calling Sherlock that, it lit up his face each time she did, and he hadn't the heart to stop her.

"Yes sweety, I do, I'm used to running off with him when he goes on these daft adventures. I don't like not being able to watch his back." John whispered, she grabbed the blanket off of the floor, curling up on his lap.

"He misses you too, when you're not here. He even talks to you. He loves you, even more than he loves me." She tucked her head against his chest to sleep. He smiled, kissing the top of her head, waiting for her to fall back asleep, carrying her upstairs. He went to Sherlock's room, sitting on the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't sleep, he laid on top of the made bed with no plans to sleep. He just let his mind go blank, soak in the room, the smell of Sherlock. He heard the footfall, breaking into his empty head. They were taking care to be quiet, missing every lose board, and odd corner. It was obviously Sherlock, no one, not even himself could avoid all of the odd little things Sherlock left about in the dark.

He came in, his steps faltering when he saw John there in just his white tee, and his sleep trousers. Sherlock peeled out of his clothes, and put on something more suitable for sleeping in. John never once glanced his way, but he didn't look off either.

"Have you slept?" Sherlock's voice brought out a small breath of relief.

"Nor have I." He slid into bed, and John reached out, pulling him into his chest. Sherlock was perfectly happy to keep his head there, taking in the sent of his soldier, his doctor, his only friend, and perhaps something else he couldn't put his finger on. A loose thread that needed further scrutiny.

"Rosie missed you." John finally spoke once Sherlock had his lanky limbs wrapped around him.

"I missed her as well, she's a gift in the kitchen, as do you." Sherlock's words were muffled by John's chest.

"It's not another dead thing is it?" Sherlock laughed, shaking in John's arms, and John joined him.

"No, I assure you it was never alive." John nodded once, and they drifted off, from them on Rosie had her own room. People noticed, no one said a thing.

Sherlock was far from the only person who noticed John's positive qualities however. Rosie proudly showed Sherlock her science project for the fifth time, a full scale model of the human skeletal system,all acute. It was light years ahead of her class, and she had skipped a grade. All the while John talked to her teacher about another skip year. Two this time in fact. John didn't like it. He wanted Rosie to get to socialize with children in her age group. He knew what happened when social skills were ignored.

"Perhaps we could talk about it over tea, or dinner? She has the intellectual capacity of a college student, and she's only in the second grade." John noticed her smile, and the way she touched his arm. It had been ages since he'd had sex, he could use some release.

"I could do with an evening out, dinner might be nice, though you'll never convince me to send her to college now. I don't even like her skipping primary school." John reciprocated the small touch with a brush of his hand down her arm.

"He's right, if I can't convince certainly won't have any luck. Our Rosie is far to clever for a public school anyhow. We've been considering a school for advanced children rather than forcing her to intermingle with teenagers." Sherlock put his arm around John's shoulders, putting his leg behind John's to leave him standing with his buttocks against Sherlock's hips. A very possessive posture.

"If you'd excuse us." John hooked his arm around Sherlock's waist, all but lifting him with the force of his directions. Sherlock looked down at John curiosity perking his interest.

"What are you doing Sherlock?" John stepped away from him.

"Well I was talking to that poor excuse for an educater before you manhandled me over here, now I am obviously waiting for you to inform me what I hAve done wrong this time." Sherlock seemed genuinely unaware of his possessive behavior.

"Sherlock... I'm , I know we... we are what ever it is we are, but I do still have certain things I would like to do with others.". John watched the confusion, and slight tinge of hurt cross Sherlock's features.

"What could you possibly want with her that you can't get from our relationship?" Sherlock crossed his arms.

"A shag for one thing, maybe even a night where I get to be the impressive one." John leaned back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You are the impressive one, you've always been the impressive one. You made me a good man John, and you are the only thing that keeps me right. As for the other thing all you had to do was ask. I'm not adverse to such activities, though I admit I can choose to ignore such desires if I wish." Sherlock shrugged, John shook his head.

"I'm not gay Sherlock." John said, Sherlock frowned.

"I don't see how that's relevant. I may not have the ideal physical form, but we are compatible in every other way, which is much more meaningful. I assure you, I don't require you to do anything for me in that area. I am perfectly content as we are, but if you require release I am happy to provide it." John stared at him for a long time without moving, so long that Sherlock began to fidget under his gaze.

"Do you find me attractive?" John took a step away from the wall and into Sherlock's space.

"I said nothing of the sort." Sherlock looked over at the window at the snowy evening.

"You didn't deny it either." John enjoyed watching him look uncomfortable.

"Fine, yes John I find you attractive despite, or perhaps even because of your short comings. Your not overly tall, which means I get to lean my head on you, and you aren't overly fit, you keep in the kind of shape that is healthy, but don't bridge into vanity, you have a strong frame which you insist on softening with all your knitwear, and when you look at me you never see a monster. Your eyes are always kind." Sherlock backed away from him while he spoke, but John growled into his space until his back thumped against the opposite wall.

"Is that right? Well let's give it a go than, see how it sits." John's voice was low, and husky. A well placed compliment from Sherlock had always left him with an uncomfortable warmth. 't gay, but Sherlock wasn't a man, not in the sense that mattered. He hadn't been for years, he was so much more now.

John pressed his lips against Sherlock's for a moment he didn't respond, and John thought he had misread the situation. It was always possible with Sherlock, but then a tentative hand found John's back, and his lips began to move.

Sherlock had a practiced and perfect form when it came to kissing, yet all of it dribbled out his ears when John's lips had touched his. He had the unique ability to leave him struck dumb, with such little effort. Sherlock fisted his hand in John's shirt pulling him flush against him. John responded, rutting up against him. John was so hard up even the slightest touch left him falling apart.

He should have known better, Sherlock wasn't like anyone else, add that to how desperate John was for physical intimacy and of course kissing him would feel good. The problem was now he couldn't unknown it. He would forever remember the hallway where the flirting of an adequate girl, and a pretty boy, added to a lack of wanking, dating, or even flirting for so many all culminated to him cumming in his trousers while he was pressed against Sherlock.

He pulled away, Sherlock was shaking. He looked him up and down.

"I have to take a piss." John said, rushing off to clean himself up. Sherlock slid down the wall to sit on the cold tile floor. John had kissed him. He hadn't expected that. He wished he could have collected more data, but his head was still spinning. Had John liked it? Would it be their only kiss? Could Sherlock handle it if it was?

"Daddy, where did Dad go?" Rosie came around the corner looking concerned. Sherlock picked her up, looking back down the hall John had retreated to.

"He's popped off to the John, let's go collect your things, and we'll stop off for chips on the way home." She did the same little happy dance in his arms that Sherlock did when case.

John tossed the rag, his under things were done for, they'd be stained for sure. He sat down on one of the toilets, covering his face with both hands. Why had he done that? Sure the teacher had gotten him a bit excited with her flirting, it had been the first time he'd let himself appreciate a woman flirting with him since... He wasn't some animal though. He could control himself, but then Sherlock had said all those nice things, and John had just wanted to see if he was even capable of feeling sexually attracted to a man.

He should have tested the theory elsewhere, any other man and it wouldn't have worked. Sherlock... well he was Sherlock, and the normal rules never applied. He didn't want to go back out there and face Sherlock. What could he even say? He wasn't gay!

Eventually he had to leave the cramped stall, Rosie ran over, giving him the distraction he needed, and Sherlock didn't mention it. In fact they got home after stopping for chips, and went to bed without ever mentioning it.


	3. Chapter 3

He woke up, spooned against Sherlock, his sizable erection pressed into his ass. Now in the quiet of the morning he took the time to really look Sherlock over.

He was attractive, John had always known that. He had high cheek bones, and thick hair, with inquisitive eyes. He kept himself well fit, with a supple ass, but he still had that slender frame that allowed for John to play the part of the big spoon when he was feeling particularly emasculated. All of that made him appealing, but none of it would have tempted him to kiss him.

No, the things that made him attack him at Rosie's school were much more ethereal. That frustrated him the most about the whole thing, if only his attraction was physical, it would be so simple. He brushed a lock of Sherlock's hair from his pale brow. He thought about the way he loved Mary, it had felt so easy, but turned out to be so difficult. She had hidden herself from him, tried to coddle him. Sherlock had never once treated him like something weak, or breakable, despite his knowledge that John was less skilled in combat, and less intelligent than he happened to be.

He leaned closer, kissing Sherlock's brow, he felt warm and soft against his lips, the same as any woman. He moved down, pressing his lips to Sherlock's briefly. Even in his sleep Sherlock moved towards him, letting out a soft moan. He rolled onto his back his eyes still closed. John looked him over.

Tall, and lean, his trousers tented with his morning tumescence. John's own twitched at the sight, he ran his hand slowly down Sherlock's chest, dipping one finger bellow the elastic of his trousers. He looked back up at his face, Sherlock's quizzical eyes caught his. He didn't speak, or move away, he just watched John explore his body with his hands. After the pads of his fingers had memorized every inch of his chest he learned in for another kiss.

They stayed locked in a passionate, tongue tangled embrace for a moment before John pulled away. He sat up, and slid out of bed. He padded across the floor towards the bathroom, stopping only to grab his clothes for the day. Sherlock gave a little pouting whimper when he left. He had complete control over his mind and body, but he was so hard it hurt. He wouldn't push John though. He would take anything he would give.

John sent Rosie down to Mrs. Hudson, she insisted on looking after her at least once a week. Sherlock caught John looking at him while he swung on his coat. It wasn't lust, just a gentle curiosity, and a soft smile. He wanted answers so badly that the same frantic energy that built up when he went without a case had his hand tapping incessantly.

"I'm not gay Sherlock, but I don't mind how we are. Did you want to come to dinner with me and Miss Delaney?" He held his hand out palm, Sherlock took it happily.

"Yes, that will do nicely." That was the last time they talked about whatever it was that they were. They kissed occasionally, but nothing else seemed to change. It wasn't until they were at a crime scene that things came to a head.

"Is that a glass eye" John leaned over to get a closer look at the surveillance footage. Sherlock shot up, grinning like a fool.

"Yes! Yes that's it! So simple it's almost clever! John you're a genius!" Sherlock grabbed him by the back off his neck, pulling him in for a dizzying kiss, which John met without a second thought. Greg's mouth fell open, and his eyes went wide.

"Pay up." Mrs. Hudson held a hand out to him, Greg pulled out his wallet as Sherlock pulled John out of the house by their joined hands.

"Well they're really going to talk now." John said, they broke into a fit of laughter so uproarious that they had to stop to catch their breath. This particular adventure ended with them nearly getting blown up, again. Getting blown up meant Rosie would stay with Molly for a couple of days, just to be safe.

John pushed Sherlock into his chair, to bandage him up. He never let the paramedics check him over, saying they were amateurs. He patched up his small cuts and scrapes. His hand lingering on the delicious dip just above Sherlock's waist band.

"You don't mind providing it in the slightest?" John whispered, it took Sherlock a moment to trace the comment back to what exactly John meant, but when he did his throat went dry.

"Not in the slightest." Sherlock's voice had become so low it was hard to make out, John slid up onto the chair to taste him. He straddled him, pleased with the immediate response he felt against his backside.

He took care to shift against him in slow languid strokes that matched the movement of his tongue. Sherlock brought his hands up to backside, leveraging against him. Sherlock hurried to undo his trousers before he changed his mind.

He palmed him through his red under things, John groaned against his mouth. Sherlock would have been happy to keep at it all evening, the taste, the feeling, the smell of John against him calmed his mind in a way nothing else did. John sharpened his senses, and calmed his nerves. John felt just the opposite, Sherlock excited him, thrilled him, drove his heart to race in his chest. He popped up, and Sherlock thought that would be the end of it, but John grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the bedroom.

He tugged his shirt off, dropping it to the floor. Sherlock simply stared in silence. John turned around when he got to the bed, making a little face at him.

"Well you've to do your own buttons Sherlock, unless you want me to manhandle you." John let his already unfastened trousers drop off his hips. He was fit, more so than before they lost Mary, he wasn't eating properly, he should have noticed sooner. The trail of course hair over his navel, to the band of his under things drew his eye to the bulge in them, a slight sodden spot from anticipation.

John had planned this, not the events that lead to his injury, but he had planned to take this step. He had taken care to groom, he smelled of the cologne Sherlock favoured, and his under things were new. His not gay flatmate had lubricants on the night stand beside their bed. Was this out of genuine interest or simply because he had pushed it, and John being his compassionate self had chosen to take the route that made him uncomfortable rather than make Sherlock unhappy.

His eyes were dilated, his stance uncomfortable, but not uninterested. His skin was flush, heart rate had been elevated. His member at full attention, not half, and his voice deeper than normal. All in all he would have to conclude that some genuine interest was present, if not a little forced on John's part. He was uncomfortable with the new experience, not the person whom he was halving it with.

"Sherlock?" John waved his hand in front of Sherlock's unmoving face. Sherlock took a startled breath, blinking for the first time in over a minute.

"Right, too forward. I should never have..." John moved to pull up his trousers, Sherlock quickly shrugged out of his shirt.

"Apologies John, I was simply checking something." He unbuttoned his trousers, and walked out of them towards John. He ran his hands over Sherlock's chest, shifting around, and pushing Sherlock down onto the bed in one swift, effortless motion. He had never been on the reviving end of this sort of behavior from John, and he could admit, if only to himself, that he enjoyed being manhandled by John.

"How do we do this?" John at last revealed his innocence in the way of taking pleasure from a man while he was nestled between Sherlock's legs, the thin fabric of their undergarments rubbing up against each other.

"How would you like me John, I could take you, or you me, I could suck you off, use my hands, or we could rut much in the way we did the first time you kissed me. I am adverse to none of such options." John nodded, taking time to kiss and lick his way down from Sherlock's neck to his chest while he thought.

"Maybe, just for the first time, since I've never been... I mean... since you're the first, maybe we could have the sucking. Something androgynous." Sherlock gave a wicked smile, the rare kind that touched his eyes, and slithered out from under John. John fell back on the bed to watch him.

"I'm still not gay." John said almost more to himself than anything else, Sherlock nodded, tugging his undergarments down enough for his clock to spring free.

"Obviously." He contradicted his word by running the flat of his tongue from base to tip, and then swallowing the whole of him.

"Oh, Sherlock!" He dropped his head back with an obscene groan. Sherlock used every little trick he had logged away in his mind palace, he needed John to like this.

"Do yourself as well." John said as a deep wanton command. Sherlock did as he was told, stroking himself with one hand while he took John as deep as he could in his mouth.

"Sh-Sherlock!" John came first, and Sherlock swallowed every drop of him. He stopped the stroking of his other hand when he did, unsure if John would be as keen on watching him finish. John watched him flop back onto the bed without satisfaction. John took a moment to pull himself back together before he wrapped his hand around his member experimentally.

"John? I don't require you..." He was interrupted by John covering his mouth with his own.

"I am not a man to leave the one I love wanting." He whispered against the shell of his ear, at his words Sherlock lost himself, spilling out onto John's hand. He clung to John, drowning in the sensation of his lips on his slender neck.

"And do we?" Sherlock said some time later, when his heart had calmed, and his legs stopped trembling.

"What now?" John mumbled the words, half sleep, half waking.

"Are we in love, in the same fashion you were with Mary?" Sherlock his his face in the crux of John's neck, not wanting to deduce the answer, but instead counting on John to ease him into the truth of this, that John was not gay, and that this was merely convenient.

"Well I can't speak for your emotions, as I'm not the one keen on deductions, but I've loved you since you took me for dinner, and I asked if you were single. Though I didn't realize myself the breadth of those emotions until I kissed you." Sherlock's gaze flicked up quickly to try and catch him in a lie.

"Truly?" He whispered, John smiled, kissing him sweetly.

"Of course you stupid git, I may not like men, but I love you, even if it did take a moment to come to terms with." He tapped him once on the forehead when he said you, laughing at the shock in his expression.

"I've loved you since you refused Mycroft's offer to spy on me, I've never felt this way for anyone. In truth I've never been intimate with anyone to such an extent. I've never been intimate to any extent save for under the guise of a case." He gave John his very last secret, John made the face he always did when he found something confusing, and hard to believe.

"What about Janine, she walked in while you were in the bath?" John sat up, Sherlock sighed, shifting up to lean against the headboard.

"I never had relations with her, I wasn't even attracted to her, unlike yourself I am gay, though I have found exception for the remarkably clever. More than once I spoke with Mary on the concept of perhaps being your third if the sexual aspect of your relationship evergreen dull." Sherlock said without realizing how odd that would be.

"You what?" He was gobsmacked, Sherlock chuckled.

"That's precisely what Mary and I thought you would say were we to ever bring it up." Sherlock took John's hand while he was still too shocked to speak, and licked it clean of his spendings. John lost himself for a moment, watching him work.

"So Mary was okay with sleeping with you?" John said when he finally managed to forma question.

"Well in the ideal you would have been the in between, she didn't seem adverse to it if it had been the only way you would agree however." Sherlock shrugged, John fell back against the headboard, shaking his head.

"So you were willing to let your first time be with Mary, and myself so that you could be intimate with me?" John was still staring at him in disbelief.

"Why not, it's no worse than getting engaged in order to get into an office building." Sherlock flashed him a smile, John cracked up, pulling him closer.

"You're a complete and utter cock." John pressed his own against Sherlock in emphasis, even injured it peaked his interest. Needless to say the two of them didn't leave the little back bedroom of 221b Baker street for nearly a full day, only coming once hunger outstripped their stamina.

 **That's the whole of it, what do you think? I might add more if you like it.**


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